When Voldemort casually mentioned that "Vizet Lovegood was dead," the noise in the Great Hall vanished once more.
Some students involuntarily opened their mouths wide, their faces turning deathly pale in an instant.
Some suddenly clenched their fists and slammed them heavily down on the table, as though trying to use the pain shooting through their fists to determine whether they were dreaming.
Others bit their lips hard, their eye sockets quickly reddening as tears shimmered within. They did not dare blink, terrified that the moment they did, the tears would slip down their faces.
"You must have seen similar rumors long ago, haven't you?" Voldemort's malicious voice rang out again, growing even more piercing.
"Think carefully about who made all this happen! And recall those reports about him—how long has it been since you last received any?"
"He was clearly so famous, appearing in all sorts of newspapers and magazines from time to time, yet he suddenly vanished without a trace. Don't you find that strange?"
"Do I need to repeat myself? Vizet Lovegood is dead!" He savored the moment so much that he could not stop himself from laughing loudly several times.
His laughter was painfully shrill. Many students frowned, their faces revealing expressions of anguish.
Yet he remained fairly restrained. After only a few bursts of laughter, he fell silent of his own accord, as though anticipating that the students' emotions would ferment further during his silence.
Dumbledore sighed in disappointment. "Voldemort, all that talking was merely for the purpose of making the students afraid."
"After they overcame the fear brought by defeating you, you realized they were no longer so easily frightened. To avoid losing too much face, you have even begun to lie."
"Do you have proof that he is still alive? If you do...